Prompto blinks as the tall man with glasses that had introduced himself as Ignis runs his long fingers along the blond's left arm. Behind him Noctis hovers awkwardly, his hands half-raised as if he wants to reach out and touch the dark swooping lines trickling down the blond's fingers. He is surprised when he realizes he wouldn't mind the prince's touch, and if he were a braver person he might've offered out his hand for the prince to take. But alas, Prompto is not brave and he lowers his head with his cheeks burning.
"Can you feel this?" Ignis wonders, tapping Prompto's fingertips.
He nods, resting his forehead against the cool bars, "Yeah…"
Ignis's cool fingers trail farther up his arm and to his shoulder, his cool green eyes assessing. Prompto is pressed uncomfortably against the bars so that the other blond can have access to his wounded shoulder. It pulses with uncomfortable burning heat, and the skin around it is bruised and dark from him slamming it against the bars to try and pop it back in place himself.
In hindsight that was probably a bad idea, but that dark nagging voice in his head had been screaming at him that he was damaged and he needed to repair himself and it wouldn't shut up. Prompto had curled up on the floor trying to ignore the voice for hours before his will finally caved and he ended up slamming his shoulder into the bars to try and force it back into place himself. He had only stopped when his vision began to swim from the pain and his weight collapsed from beneath him.
"Alright," Ignis says after a long moment of feeling around his shoulder, shifting his weight.
"Can you fix it?" Noctis wonders, kneeling closer.
"I can pop it back in place, but he will need to see an actual doctor in the morning," Ignis grumbles, glaring at the prince. Prompto's violet gaze flickers back and forth between the two, swallowing nervously. He stiffens as the tall man's cool green eyes focus back on him, "Are you okay with me doing this?"
He is confused why Ignis is asking his permission but nods nonetheless. The man hums, his brow furrowed in concentration as he grips his arm firmly. Prompto lowers his head and braces himself against the bars and doesn't make a sound when there is a tug and a loud pop as his shoulder is clinically ripped back into place and a wave of relief rushes through him and he sags against the cool metal bars with a sigh.
Noctis hovers close, "You okay?" he asks, a line of worry between his brows.
Prompto hums an affirmative, doesn't raise his head as he just breathes for a moment. He is used to pain, had spent nearly the first half of his life in constant agony, but the blond has always been weak and needs a moment to gather himself before he can even think about meeting the prince's eye.
"How does it feel?" Ignis wonders, gently touching the bruised area around his shoulder to make sure the bone was back in its proper place.
"Better," Prompto murmurs, gingerly rolling his shoulder "Thank you" and he raises his head at last to give the taller man a smile that feels more like a grimace.
Ignis nods, "Not a problem," and raises to his feet.
Noctis shuffles closer, "Does it still hurt?" he wonders.
Prompto looks at him, "Yeah," he is still confused why the prince even cares. Why he snuck down here, dripping wet and just… started talking to him. He feels like he is out of the loop, like there is something he doesn't know. And despite the prince being nothing but kind and unfairly charming his suspicion is starting to rise.
At first, he had thought this was some sort of "good cop bad cop" routine, but he doesn't know why the Lucian guards would let their crown prince near a foreign assassin. And he had been nothing but cooperative once he had been captured. Before that though…
But then he started talking and had been so kind and funny and beautiful and Prompto ruined it by revealing his injury and the prince had insisted on calling Ignis down to help and a big part of him wished that he hadn't so he would have been able to talk to the man longer without interruption. There was a time when he could've gotten shot with a bullet and not reacted at all, it seems his years with Vanargard had made him soft. He smiles bitterly at the ceiling, imagining what his correctional officer would've done to him at the sight of such weakness. He shivers at the thought even as that dark part of him yearns for the correction. He hates it.
"Prompto? You okay?" the prince calls out worriedly, his arm raised like he wants to reach through the bars and touch him.
"Why are you being so kind to me?" Prompto wondered tiredly.
The prince hesitates, bites his lip as he tugs at his jacket sleeve. Prompto raises a brow at him and Noctis stares at him for a long moment before something visibly gives within him and he yanks his sleeve up and practically shoves his arm in the blond's face.
At first, he isn't able to comprehend exactly what Noctis is showing him. Identical markings to his own trail down the lower part of his arm and something in him wants to reach out and touch.
"What…" Prompto whispered, absolutely floored.
The prince smiles, flexes his tattooed fingers nervously "Yeah…" he says, blushing. "Guess I just wanted to meet my soulmate is all."
Prompto's stomach drops, "Oh," he says, and gives a strained smile. Noctis doesn't seem to notice, because he is still staring at Prompto like he was something precious and that can't be right because Prompto is a monster, a demon, a machine, and Noctis is a prince. How can they be soulmates? This must be a fluke it has to be, it-
"I am sorry to interrupt," Ignis calls out, cutting off Prompto's train of thought, "But it is time that his highness was off to bed. We have all had a long day."
Noctis tries to protest but the taller man's icy gaze quickly quiets him. "Goodnight, Prompto." the prince whispers with a boyish grin that makes Prompto's heart flutter as he steps away with a shy wave and follows after his advisor.
Prompto watches them go as they disappear from his line of sight and the doors to the cellblock close with a resounding clang and he is left alone once again.
He bites his lip and leans against the cold stone wall, staring blankly at his soulmark. Running his cold fingers along the smooth skin, absently tracing the stark black lines as he stares off into the middle distance. The lines are warm to the touch, and there is a strange pleasant buzz under his skin that is unbelievably comforting in this cold dark cell.
He doesn't understand what is happening. Of course, he knows what soulmarks are. A couple members of Vanagard had told him all about it, revealing their own marks to him. Before being taken by the resistance group in Nifelheim, he hadn't known. The scientists hadn't bothered to tell him what the marks on his arm were, they didn't really ever really talk to him at all besides barking commands.
Not everyone has marks though. In fact, it is more common for someone to not have a mark. Prompto wishes he didn't have one. He shouldn't have one. He grips a handful of his hair and groans; guilt constricts his insides painfully and Prompto curses gods he doesn't even believe in that they forced a prince of all things to be chained to him.
That's what this is, Prompto realizes as he stares down at his arm, these are shackles. Chains that connect Noctis to a monster. A demon.
Not all soulmates have a romantic bond, but Prompto can already tell from the short time spent with his match that if they kept interacting it… definitely wouldn't be a platonic relationship. He likes Noctis. A frankly weird amount for barely one conversation and he wants. Wants to learn more about the man, who he is, what he likes, his favorite food, what his opinions are on chocobos, everything.
But at the same time, he thinks about the future. About the fact that one day Noctis would be a king, and that if Prompto had a relationship with the man he would be in the public eye and he feels like he is going to throw up at just the thought. He can't… he can't handle that. In his mind's eye, he sees himself standing next to the prince and squeezes his eyes shut because the image is humiliating for Noctis.
Gritting his sharp teeth, Prompto wonders if maybe he could grow his arm back if he tried to cut it off. Like a lizard, or something. Who knows what Besithia did to his DNA, for all Prompto knew he could be part gecko. Better not to risk it. The mark would probably grow back with it anyway.
Maybe if he found some acid and dipped his arm in it? Chemical burns were sure to destroy a mark like this, right? Prompto didn't know, but thinks that he should probably figure out something that doesn't involve bodily mutilation.
The first chance he gets, Prompto is going to escape here. He is going to go back to Niflheim, and forget this mission ever happened. It will be better for everyone. Better for Noctis.
No one should be chained to a monster, after all.
The next morning Prompto is curled up underneath his cot, having barely gotten a wink of sleep, when a squad of crownsguard practically drag him from his cell and frogmarch him to the infirmary.
He sits stiffly in the clinical white room, wiping his sweaty palms on the paper sheet over the bed. His wrists are cuffed together in front of him, but besides that he is unrestrained. Truthfully, this was nothing like the Magitek Facility, but he couldn't get the smell out of his head. His heart pounds in his ears and Prompto tries his best to breathe through the creeping panic. He is vaguely aware of the crownsguard raising a brow at him from where they stand between him and the window but doesn't risk turning to look at them in case they notice his slitting eyes. There is a polite knock on the door and a tall lanky man walks in, Prompto catches a glimpse of the rest of his personal pack of guards standing outside the door before it closes. The doctor introduces themselves but Prompto is too busy trying not to visibly tremble he immediately forgets their name. They begin to explain that they are just going to perform a couple of X-Rays and run a few tests to make sure that he is healthy.
That didn't sound too bad, Prompto supposed weakly. Allowing himself to relax a little. He manages to stay still as the man takes his pulse and blood pressure and all of the basic health procedures, but he freezes up as the doctor holds up an empty syringe to take a sample of his blood.
"Now, this will pinch just a little-" but the man doesn't get a chance to finish because Prompto is already darting out of his seat and across the room and as far away from the man with the stupid fucking needle. The crownsguard in the room shouts something but the blond is too busy trying to fight back the vivid memories that flood his mind. The injections of plasmodium into his bloodstream that eat away at his humanity and sanity as it burns through his body, the faceless scientists uncaring of his screams as they jot down meaningless observations like he is nothing more than some experiment, and he is. He is nothing but an experiment grown in a tube-
Someone grabs his arm and Prompto flinches, practically diving away as he growls lowly like a cornered dog. He bares his teeth, from where he has backed himself up into the corner and realizes that at some point during his freakout Cor had arrived.
"Woah, kid, hey," the Immortal says, with his hands raised. "No needles, okay?"
He stares at the taller man, chest heaving and eyes wide as he attempts to calm his breathing, "No needles," Prompto agrees weakly, voice shaky.
The rest of the appointment is… awkward. The doctor's easy-going attitude in the beginning is replaced by a nervous one that is just waiting for something else to trigger the blond assassin. Prompto bites his lip as they do an X-Ray on his shoulder and tries to ignore the annoying buzz of the machine in his sensitive ears. The doctor pins the images to a light board and points out the injured area to the blond and recommends Prompto put his arm in a sling for the next couple of days but otherwise his surface wounds will heal by themselves and there is nothing else he can do for him.
There is a tense moment when they have to figure out what to do about the sling when his hands are still shackled together, but ultimately Cor just sighs and releases the cuffs and gives Prompto a glare that almost makes him whimper. He gets the message loud and clear; run and you're dead.
From there Prompto's ragtag group of angry crownsguard and Cor escort him to another interrogation room and plop him down in a considerably more comfortable chair than last time. Everyone but Cor leaves the room, but the immortal goes to stand in the corner of the room and not in the chair facing him so Prompto assumes the tall man isn't going to be his interrogator this time.
The blond sighs after a couple awkward minutes and begins to kick his feet in boredom, he wants to maybe ask Cor a stupid question to fill the suffocating silence but thinks that he would be ignored and imagines the silence after Prompto would ask the Immortal what his favorite dinosaur was and be met with silence would be even worse than the silence right now. So he stays quiet and tries his best to be patient.
About ten more minutes pass, Prompto is entertaining himself by trying to find shapes in the dark stone walls around him, when the door opens. Clarus Amicitia enters first, broad shoulders fill the entire doorway and the man gives Prompto a severe once over that makes him shift in his seat awkwardly. Then, the shield moves farther into the room and another man walks in behind him and the assassin's stomach drops.
Because the King of Lucis just walked into the interrogation room.
Gulping, Prompto sits up straighter. Is he supposed to bow? Greet him with a 'Your Highness'? Wait, Your Highness was for princes, wasn't it? So… was the proper term 'Your Grace' or 'Your Majesty'? Gods, the blond didn't know and so he did the most stupid thing in his panic,
He lifted the hand that wasn't in the sling and waved awkwardly, "Hey," the blond says, smiling in a way he is sure is coming off as more of a grimace.
King Regis lifts a brow at the greeting and Prompto sort of wants the ground to swallow him up.
"Good morning. Prompto, was it?" The king says, lowering himself stiffly to sit in the chair. Prom's gaze zeros in on the Ring of Lucii that rests on the man's middle finger, the darkness that still resides in his blood writhes at the close proximity to the crystal's pure magic and he fights back an uncomfortable grimace.
"Uhh, yeah. M-my name is… er, Prompto. Prompto Argentum." the blond stutters, behind him Cor snorts and he resists the urge to turn and glare at the man.
King Regis folds his hands in his lap primly, "During the autopsy of Titus Drautos we found General Glauca's liquid armor. It appears you have done Lucius a favor, Mr. Argentum."
"Uh, j-just Prom… Prompto is fine, sir." the blond stutters, hunches his shoulder as Clarus glares at him from behind the king's shoulder.
"Prompto," the king agrees, smiling gently at him. There is something about the man's aura that just screams kindness and Prompto feels the tightness in his stomach easing slightly at the calm comfort in the greying man's blue eyes that are the exact shade of Noctis's own.
"Clarus tells me that you are part of the resistance group in Nifleheim known as Vanargard." the king continues and Prompto nods shakily. "Your arrival here is most… opportune, Prompto. We have been looking for a way to contact them in hopes of making an arrangement."
"What kind of arrangement?" Prompto wonders, suspicious.
Regis smiles, "We would like to join forces and exchange resources to hopefully bring an end to Emperor Aldercapt's rule and for there to finally be peace in Eos."
The assassin hesitates, "I can relay the memo, but I cannot guarantee you getting even a reply back. Aranea is… headstrong. She might not accept help, especially from foreigners."
"I understand," Regis agrees easily.
"I'll need a radio," Prompto says nervously. He battles with himself if he should actually contact Vanargard, but… but surely this is the right thing to do? Lucis can help and give them the supplies, money, and resources they need to finally put an end to this civil war, right? He just hopes this is the right decision.
"Of course," the king says, "Oh, and another thing…"
"Yeah?" Prompto asks, nerves rising as the King's demeanor becomes just slightly chilly.
"It has come to my attention that you are my son's soulmate, Prompto." King Regis states, resting both of his hands on his cane.
Prom swallows thickly, staring at his lap, "I-I guess so."
"So you understand why I must ask if you intend any harm on Lucius or the Royal Family?" the greying man asks, face severe.
He raises his head, "My goal is to take down the Niflheim Empire, if anything it would be in my worst interest to become an enemy of Lucis. Enemy of thy enemy is thy friend, right?" he smiles weakly.
The king gives him a look he cannot read, "And why are you so determined to destroy the country of your birth?"
He grins with sharp teeth, "Let's just say those bastards have it coming,"
Regis smiles back, "I see… Well, thank you for meeting with me, Prompto." the man stands shakily, leaning heavily on his cane. Prompto can practically see the ring siphoning the energy from him and watches as the man limps from the room with a pang of sadness.
"Uh, Your Majesty?" he hopes that is the right honorific as he calls out to the king before he leaves the room. The king and his shield both turn to look at him with raised brows.
Prompto smiles nervously, "Uh, well, it's just… I promise that I won't ever do anything to hurt Noc- uh, Prince Noctis. I know you have no reason to believe anything I say, but just… yeah," he finishes lamely and his shoulder shike up to his ears as the king stares at him for a long moment without saying anything.
Finally, King Regis smiles, "I am relieved to hear that," and leaves the room.
He slumps back into his seat with a sigh of relief and Cor comes to a stop next to his chair, "Come on, kid." the Marshal says.
"Where are we going?" The blond wants to groan, it is barely ten in the morning and he just wants to go back to his cell and sleep. Fatigue weighs down his bones and his eyelids feel heavy.
"To a radio. C'mon, on your feet. Let's go." Cor urges, walking to the door without waiting for Prom to even get up and the blond has to race after him to keep up. The only people out in the hall are the group of guards that have been following Prom everywhere that morning and their little group makes their way through the labyrinth of hallways silently.
"How do you guys not get lost in here?" Prompto wonders exasperated as they turn into yet another hallway.
"Practice," a female guard tells him with a smirk and the blond manages to smile back.
Eventually, they make it to a small windowless room with an ancient radio covered in a layer of dust. Prompto walks up to the dinosaur of machinery and runs his finger along the thick dust dubiously, giving Cor an exasperated look.
"It's the best we got, kid. Don't complain." the Marshal growls.
Prompto snorts as he sits down in the swivel chair and begins to flip several loud switches and whirs loudly to life. Making sure everything is plugged in and ready to go before he reaches for the largest nozzle and begins to rotate through the channels.
"Aesir, come in. This is Ullr," Prompto spoke into the mic. He is vaguely aware of the guards in the room with him exchanging looks at the strange codenames. After a moment of static, he tries again, "Aesir this is Ullr, please come in."
Nothing. He moves onto the next frequency.
"Aesir, Ullr here, please come in. I repeat: Aesir, this is Ullr, please respond."
It goes that way for a long time. He tries over half a dozen frequencies and is met with no responses. He spins to the last channel he knows of and calls out into the mic. A moment of silence before the radio blares to life, "Well I'll be, Prom! We was setting up a pool on whether you'd gone and kicked it!" a familiar accented voice said through the staticy speakers, "What took you so long to report in, you little shit? I'm gonna lose five hundred Gil cause of you!"
Prompto smiles, he presses the button and speaks into the mic "Sorry to hear that, Leira. I… ran into a little bit of trouble."
There is a pause, "What d'ya mean? You got the job done, right? Don't tell me ya' missed?"
Now, he laughs. "I never miss," he tells her.
Leira laughs, "Yeah, yeah, I know, you freak of science. What did you get yourself into this time?"
"I got caught."
"Pardon?"
"Damn kingsglaive got me," Prompto tells her grimly. Gazing back at the Marshal you gives him an annoyed look.
"Well shit Prom, this a ransom note or somethin'? They holdin' a knife to your throat right now?" she wonders, "Listen you Lucian pieces of shit, you hurt a hair on that pretty blond head and your fuckin' dead, y'hear me?" she yells to the guards in the room.
"No, no, I'm fine, just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing too bad." He reassures her, "Actually, they asked me to contact you about something else. An… ah, beneficial relationship."
At his words, there is no answer and Prompto shifts in his chair nervously at the silence. Two minutes pass, with nothing but static in the speakers. Just as he is about to press the button on the mic to ask if there is something wrong a voice calls out and he grins at the familiar voice, even if they sound pissed.
"Prompto, this is Aranea. Explain."